


Shippy askbox fanfiction

by sootnose



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootnose/pseuds/sootnose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The starters I got on tumblr and my replies to them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cosmos/Sunstreaker

**Author's Note:**

> The couple first ones aren't so fic-like, but I put them in for completeness' sake.

Anonymous asked:

> Sunstreaker hugging Cosmos when he comes back from a solo mission, excited to see him back safe and sound.

Option 1: He lifts Cosmos off the ground and holds him close kind of glaring over Cosmos’ shoulder at anybody who would dare to snicker or say something about this pda. After so long in space Cosmos is a bit unused to touch and squeaks when being lifted up, but happily hugs Sunstreaker back.

Option 2: Sunstreaker hugs, like, Cosmos’ waist, because in scenario 2 Cosmos is huge. And Sunstreaker kind of bonks his face on Cosmos’ midsection and grumbles about all the dings and dirt on Cosmos’ plating. Cosmos kind of awkwardly hugs him back and says he was going to go to the washracks asap

That’s not really why Sunstreaker is complaining and Cosmos knows it but they can communicate like that.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> Sunstreaker introducing Bob to Cosmos and the insecticon is unsure about this huge bot.

Bob would sniff suspiciously at Cosmos’ feet and dart between Cosmos and Sunstreaker when Cosmos crouches down to get closer to Bob’s level. After an awkward staring contest Cosmos tries to bribe Bob with rust sticks but the insecticon just grabs the treat and huddles in front of Sunstreaker and keeps a watchful optic on Cosmos all the while.

After a while Cosmos sits on his aft on the ground and leans his chin on a hand and Sunstreaker keeps shifting his weight from leg to leg. He steps over Bob to try and show the bug he isn’t scared of Cosmos, there’s nothing for Bob to worry about, but Bob shuffles forward and in between them at a ridiculous speed.

Sunstreaker facepalms. Cosmos is considering flopping facedown on the floor, and kind of worried that Bob’s reaction will make Sunstreaker think there’s something iffy about him.

Eek.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> "I don't think he likes me." Cosmos mumbled, watching the insecticon mope on his pillow. They weren't in Sunstreaker's room, as his berth was too small for the UFO. Even his own berth was a bit on the small size for his frame. Sunstreaker had solved that problem by lounging Cosmos' chest. "I'm sure he'll come around to the idea." Sunstreaker sighed, hugging the other bot.

And so he does, eventually. After quite some time of doing his best not to leave the two alone and borderline stalking Cosmos, Bob comes to the conclusion that Cosmos is very conscious of his size and weight and as such is unlikely to accidentally hurt Sunstreaker, and doesn’t really have a temper even when Sunstreaker definitely does.

Once he decides Cosmos is a-ok he likes to sprawl on Cosmos’ lap and have scratchies; Cosmos is very surprised and wary the first time Bob lopes over and flops across his legs. Sunstreaker actually laughs because of Cosmos’ goofy expression and showers Bob with praise and treats so the he definitely knows that being friendly with Cosmos is a very, very good thing.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> "Need help?" Sunstreaker asked, taking the scrub brush away from Cosmos and moving around him. Cosmos' engine gave a startled purr when the yellow bot went right down to business scrubbing at the spots he could never accurately reach. Sunstreaker frowned and ran his fingers over the dings in his plating from were he had collided with small asteroids.

A couple of the larger dings would need a medic’s help, but Sunstreaker was set on popping out what he could and helping Cosmos clean all the difficult spots that tended to gather grime even with regular washes and careful flaring and shifting of plating to get solvent everywhere.

It would serve the dual purpose of getting the shuttle clean and getting him used to touch again.

They had both gotten good at informing others of when they needed their space. Neither was particularly extroverted or touchy-feely by nature. For shuttles it was par the course; a shuttle that needed constant contact and company was a miserable shuttle.

They could feel more comfortable with one another, knowing the other would respect their need for space.

After a thorough cleaning, oiling of joints and some fiddling with small plates to make transformations smoother Cosmos’ engine was rumbling a low, relaxed note and he felt like what he imagined a puddle of goo would feel like.

Sunstreaker was meticulous, a concentrated frown on his face while he worked, but it melted away when he was satisfied enough. He was already planning the little fixes to Cosmos’ paintjob and a good wax and buffing, and while he would prefer to not leave anything half-done, Cosmos had a lot of surface area.

Besides, Cosmos was lovely when he was this relaxed, lovely, and currently distracting Sunstreaker with some sweet touches and kisses.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> Sunstreaker was not used to receiving gifts, so Cosmos awkwardly standing in front of his habsuit was a surprise. "I thought you might like this." The crystal was tiny in the UFO's hands but was rather sizable when Sunstreaker held it. "I found it on an asteroid and well," He fidgeted while Sunstreaker examined the gift.

Sunstreaker’s habsuite was quite ascetic. Sunstreaker’s belongings were largely limited to art supplies, cleaning and waxing products, and some things for Bob. Cosmos was more the type to collect trinkets and memorabilia. Sunstreaker thought Cosmos’ habsuite looked almost like an intricate art piece, something akin to a fractal. He smiled to himself and wondered if the shuttle intended to turn Sunstreaker’s habsuite into one as well. 

He would probably start to feel uncomfortable with that much clutter in his living space before it reached that stage, but up to a certain point, he didn’t mind.

He craned his neck to smile up at Cosmos.

"Thank you."

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> He was not expecting a message from his brother. Sunstreaker stared at the small icon, leaning into Cosmos' warm chasis. It could be important. Maybe. He clicked on the icon and just gave a weary sigh at the picture that greeted him. 'Congrats on the Interface' was the text accompanied by a doodle of a UFO and several energon cubes floating through space. The first time he heard from him in months and that's what he wanted to say?

"Huh. Seems like we finally got contact to Cybertron. I wonder who blabbed", Sunstreaked said, showing Cosmos the message.  
Cosmos stayed silent. Sunstreaker’s spark made an anxious backflip but he gritted his dentae and plowed on.

“A simple interface isn’t news enough to warrant congratulations.”

“You went without for quite a while, didn’t you?” Cosmos asked quietly. For such a large bot his voice was surprisingly lacking in boom.  
Sunstreaker looked up to Cosmos, who was leaning his chin on the top of Sunstreaker’s helm.

“I could’ve gotten someone into my berth if I’d liked”, Sunstreaker said. “Bob is a good deterrent for unwanted company.”  
Cosmos chuckled. That Bob was.

“Someone must’ve told Sideswipe we’re _mushy_ ”, Sunstreaker said, narrowing his optics at the scribbles in the message, and plucked the stylus out of its slot.

 _Why are there energon cubes in space?_ He wrote on the datapad and sent the message on its way.

"… Because you need to refuel after a ‘face?" Cosmos guessed.

"I doubt he put that much thought into it. Let’s see what he can make up", Sunstreaker replied with a smirk. He put the datapad and stylus aside and got up on his knees to face Cosmos. He pressed his forehelm to Cosmos’ chestplates.

“Are you alright?” Cosmos asked, gently engulfing Sunstreaker’s shoulders with his hands.

“… I’m just happy he didn’t say anything cruel about you”, Sunstreaker said quietly. “I didn’t always grant the same courtesy to his lovers.”  
Sideswipe’s message was so civil. Sunstreaker knew that Cosmos was someone he would’ve had many things to say about, had it been Sideswipe dating the shuttle. Lots of ammunition. It made him feel rotten just thinking about it.


	2. Bumblebee/Grimlock

Anonymoys asked:

> "I'll get a cube later." Bumblebee had said before he sat down to get some work done. And when Grimlock had returned from chasing Sideswipe across the training area, the yellow Prime had still not moved from his desk. So Grimlock did the only thing he could think of and had picked up Bumblebee and brought him to the dispenser. The Prime had been angry when he tried to bring the dispenser to him the last time this had happened.

Grimlock looked expectantly at Bumblebee once he’d put the yellow sportscar down by the energon dispenser. Bumblebee glowered, poured himself a cube and sighed. 

"Happy now?" 

"Yes!" Grimlock grinned. 

Bumblebee gave the dinobot a withering look as he took a sip from the cube. 

"You could’ve just brought be a cube if you were that worried", he pointed out. 

Grimlock gave a laugh and pointed at Bumblebee. “That”, he said, almost bouncing on his pedes, “wouldn’t be nearly as funny.” 

Bumblebee headed back to his desk, shaking his head and wondering how someone that big could be so energetic. 

Maybe trying to find a hint of the ‘Cons through news reports and the internet was just exhausting… Back when they’d been on Earth with Optimus it had largely been Ratchet or Agent Fowler informing them of new Decepticon sightings. Raf had often sifted throught the internet for random sightings, though Fowler probably had had people doing the same thing. 

Fixit had set up a system for finding Decepticon signatures in the area, but that was kind of limited and relied on them being above ground. 

That left them hoping — and not hoping — for sightings by humans. 

"Thanks", Bumblebee finally sighed to the dinobot tailing him. 

"You’re welcome!" 

* * *

Anonymoys asked:

> Grimlock likes cuddles but he gets overstimulated from too much contact

Sometimes he shrugs Bee off, scoots away and transforms to dino mode if he isn’t already in it and curls up. Sometimes he just runs off like he suddenly remembered he had something to do. At first Bumblebee was kinda bewildered and miffed about this, but he took the hint and let Grimlock keep his space. 

One time when Grimlock had been in his dino mode and had pushed his head on Bee’s lap for petting and cuddles Bee asked about it, and Grimlock had explained that sometimes being touched just makes him feel… twitchy after a while. 

Being in dino mode makes it a bit easier because usually the contact area is smaller that way.


	3. Misfire/Ultra Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this Mismagnus scenario LL and the WAP met and the Scavengers used their bargaining chip (Grimlock) and joined the LL crew. Which leads to them all being disarmed, being ‘Cons, but Krok tells the ‘bots that Spinister needs to have some kinda weapon or he’ll get… creative. Spin feels a lot safer if he can shoot threatening things. He doesn’t really shoot people because Krok told him not to and he trusts Krok. Except occasionally someone gets the ingenious idea of scaring Spin and gets tased (you didn’t think they’d have given him a proper gun with bullets and all? sheesh.)

Anonymous asked:

> "Get off my desk." Ultra Magnus wished the Decepticon jet would listen to him for once, but Misfire just sprawled over the reports like an overgrown cybercat. It was like dealing with Rodimus. A Rodimus who needed several baths to get rid of years worth of grime. That was a very good idea actually.

Misfire was smirking, yet somehow looked almost innocent in a kind of oblivious way. Magnus worked way too hard, and besides, Misfire definitely wanted some attention from the Autobot.

Magnus frowned at the previously tidy pile of reports underneath the Decepticon and wondered if he’d have to wash the datapads as well. His optics moved back up to the ‘Con’s faceplates, and Misfire leaned his face on his hands and grinned cheekily up at Magnus. He managed to keep most of his weight on his knees and elbows and didn’t actually break any of the datapads. Well wasn’t that considerate…

After a moment of debating with himself Magnus pointed the floor in front of him. “Come over here.” He didn’t exactly sound amused, but Misfire scrambled off the table and bounced over, fluttering his wings a little.

Magnus closed his eyes and pinched his nasal bridge. “You need a wash.”

Misfire had been leaning towards the Autobot, and when Magnus opened his eyes, he saw that the ‘Con took a step backwards as if offended by the idea of being clean.

Ultra Magnus frowned at him sternly.

Suddenly Misfire’s expression brightened and he leant back into Ultra Magnus’ personal space. “You can help me, since you insist!”

Magnus stared.

"Pleeeeeeeeaseee?" Misfire begged, hands crossed, optics shining, and those damned wings fluttering.

Magnus tried to frown at the ‘Con until he’d give up. Regrettably, Misfire was persistent.

And the next day the jet was back in Magnus’ office. At least he was clean this time. And… shiny.

Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics at the jet, fighting the urge to give him a warning about that practically indecent wax.

Anonymous asked:

> "Stop being grumpy." Misfire chided hugging Ultra Magnus around the neck. "Your face will get stuck like that." Ultra Magnus knew he would have to tell the jet sooner or later about Minimus.

Misfire had made a habit of keeping his plating shiny.

He had managed to befriend Sunstreaker of all bots. Ultra Magnus wouldn’t have expected such an outcome, seeing as Sunstreaker loathed Decepticons.

However, Misfire was good at getting under people’s plating, Magnus could personally attest that, what with having the ‘Con draped over himself, poking the furrows frowning left in his face plating.

Ultra Magnus extracted Misfire’s fingers from his face. No better time than the present, he thought.

"There’s something I need to tell you, Misfire."

"Mm, go ahead", Misfire said, lacing his fingers behind Magnus’ neck. "I’m all ears."

Magnus sighed and lifted Misfire’s hands over his head and in front of him, engulfing them in his own.

"I’m not who you think I am."

"Uh", Misfire said intelligently.

"My name is Minimus Ambus. I… Am Ultra Magnus, but I’m not the first one to be him."

Misfire leant closer to Magnus, tilting his head forward to look him straight in the eye. “That’s weird”, Misfire whispered.

Ultra Magnus frowned.

"Misfire, I’m serious."

"So did you just happen to look a lot like Ultra Magnus, or did you get his frame?"

Magnus frowned at the jet. Did Misfire believe him, or was he just being humoured?

"I am a loadbearer. This", he gestured at himself, "is the Magnus Armour."

Misfire sat back. “Wait — so — it comes off?”

"Yes."

Misfire canted his head. “Show me?”

So he did. Misfire’s optics flashed bright for a second when parts of what he’d thought were Magnus’ body just came off, but then he was picking up parts and turning them in his hands, throwing glances at the green bot that had been revealed underneath.

He picked up Magnus’ head, turned it over, compared it to Minimus and tried to fit it over his own head but his finials got in the way.

Then he put it down and got into Minimus’ face.

"Wow, you’re cute! And kind of small. You don’t look anything like Ultra Magnus except, yes, there you are, that frown is definitely, Primus you’re cute. And green! And face stuff! Can I kiss you? Yes? Is that a nod? Good. Mmwah! Wow. I thought for a moment there you were glitching but obviously you weren’t! Why didn’t you show me this before? Is it a secret—"

"I am Ultra Magnus. I’ve been him long enough this”, Minimus said, gesturing to the Magnus Armour, “feels more like me.”

Misfire sat back again.

"Huh." A thoughtful expression flitted across his face, and then he grinned.

"You’re hot either way."

Anonymous asked:

> This is uncalled for, Minimus thought when Misfire brought him closer to his chest. It wasn't so bad at the start. They had found a movie to watch, the smaller bot had brought out a few energon treats (the small kind that had a hard shell, not the jell ones Swerve made to float in drinks) and they had found a blanket to share. Minimus just wished Misfire didn't drop /crumbs/ everywhere while he chewed on the treats.

The movie was Misfire’s favourite. He had watched human films during the movie nights and while he had admitted he found them interesting, he also found them repetitive and a bit creepy. War over or not, Misfire had still functioned a long time with the mindset that organics were inferior; while he might be one of the first of the Scavengers to give organics a chance, you don’t undo millions of years of thought patterns overnight.

Judging by the cast, the film Misfire had chosen was one of the independent productions the well-off had made as hobbies before the war. Mainstream productions had had big name actors and pro-senate messages. Propaganda. Sometimes the independent productions had had political messages too. Those never had sequels.  
This one didn’t have a political message, though. Minimus supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; he wasn’t. Misfire would prefer something that didn’t involve thinking.

After the first twenty-three minutes it became obvious the film was a supernatural adventure. Misfire commented on everything, pointed out things Minimus wouldn’t have paid attention to and made excited sounds when something ‘badass’ happened. He was probably the most distracting person Minimus had ever had the questionable fortune of watching a film with.

"I certainly hope you didn’t get crumbs on me", Minimus said once the end credits rolled in. Misfire hummed noncommittally, then the words seemed to register.

"Oh! Scrap. No no, don’t move! I’ll get them off you", Misfire exclaimed when Minimus sighed and prepared to stand up. Minimus frowned but stayed still while Misfire started to pick crumbs off his back. It devolved into Misfire licking and sucking Minimus’ back plating in 2.25 minutes. Minimus only sighed again. He’d have to go to the wash rack anyway; what was a little oral lubricant at this point.

"Mmm, you taste sweet", Misfire mumbled in the middle of fishing out little crumbs that had hidden in a seam.

"It’s the crumbs", Minimus said dryly.

"I know. Spoilsport", Misfire replied, accompanied by an obscene slurping noise that made Minimus twist around halfway to give Misfire a reproachful glare. Misfire took advantage of the opportunity and landed a kiss on Minimus’ nose. Upon noticing that Minimus’ frown only deepened subtly Misfire brushed the knuckles of one hand against Minimus’ cheek and cupped his face with both, leaning in to properly kiss the smaller bot. The position was awkward and they bumped their noses together, but Misfire licked and nipped Minimus’ lips and Minimus tried to turn around all the way without breaking contact.

Misfire dropped his hands to Minimus’ waist when Minimus twisted around and got up on his knees. Misfire didn’t stay in one place long, ever; he flashed Minimus a grin and started to nibble and suck on the smaller bot’s neck cables, only to have his chin lifted up with thumb and forefinger to face Minimus’ disapproving frown.

Misfire pouted but leaned back to give Minimus his space; but Minimus followed and kissed him again, slow and gentle and in control. Minimus leant his forearms against Misfire’s shoulders and stroked Misfire’s wings with the very tips of his digits.

Misfire let out an appreciative half-hum and his fingers traced the transformation seams along Minimus’ sides. He grinned into Minimus’ kisses and wrapped his hands around Minimus’ waist, and when the tips of his thumbs and middle fingers met at the opposite sides of Minimus’ waist Misfire snickered. Minimus bit Misfire’s lip in retaliation but only got more approving humming and arms wrapped around himself.

Misfire’s hands moved higher up on Minimus’ back, encountereed something sticky, and everything stopped.

Minimus pulled back just enough to narrow his optics at Misfire.

"The washrack is that way", he said and nodded towards a door. "I hope there are no crumbs or sticky mess anywhere you have trouble reaching because you will have to get them out."

"Oh — mmh — alright, just—"

Minimus let go of Misfire’s wings as if he’d been stung.

"Right."


	4. Arcee/Prowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind every successful man, there is a great woman. Or... Something...

Anonymous asked:

> "You need to relax." Arcee frowned and stared at Prowl's doorwings. They were stiff and even she could see how tense the wiring that underneath the Enforcer's plating was. Prowl just mumbled something back and didn't move from his desk, too focused on the pile of datapads.

Arcee padded closer to Prowl. Prowl glanced at Arcee from the corner of his optic, then went back to work. Arcee poked an exposed wire between Prowl’s doorwings. Prowl’s back shot stick straight, his doorwings extending straight out of his frame. He turned to glare at Arcee poisonously.  
Arcee was unperturbed, leaning her hip casually against the edge of the table. “That’s not supposed to hurt”, she pointed out.

Prowl scowled at her. “I have work to do”, he said and lifted the datapad in his hand between them.

Arcee rapped the desk with her finger, then picked the datapad out of Prowl’s hand and placed it firmly aside. She tapped the desk pointedly and placed her other hand on Prowl’s neck. “You’re annoying me”, she whispered into his audial.

Prowl gave her a withering look, but gave in to the insistent push of her hand, folded his arms on the desk and laid his head across them, staring grumpily in front of him.

At first he tensed periodically when Arcee fiddled with his wiring and plating. She wasn’t the gentlest possible bot to do this, but on the positive side, she was efficient. Eventually Prowl started to relax and Arcee’s ministrations begun to feel pleasant.

His recharge was interrupted by a sharp flick to his cheek.

"I didn’t mean for you to relax quite that much”, Arcee said, smirking.

Smug fragger.

* * *

Anonymous asked:

> "So..." Fierce warrior who liked to use swords that were on fire or not, Arcee knew when to handle certain topics with the delicacy of one handling live landmines. Or not. Arcee peered around the corner to Prowl's office, ready to make a run for it. "Was that Rewind I just saw storming out of here? Have you been picking on Chromedome again?"

Prowl was glaring at his desk when Arcee looked in. Upon hearing her voice his frame relaxed in a way Arcee immediately recognised as deliberate, practiced. His doorwings dropped down enough that they weren't immediately visible from the front, and he looked up.

"'Picking on' isn't the term I'd use", he said. Arcee came fully into view, leaned shoulder and foot against the door frame and gave Prowl a lopsided half-smirk. The tips of Prowl's doorwings hitched back into view, then down again.

Prowl always had to watch his frame language more carefully around Arcee than most on the occasions when he wanted to hide his reactions from her. It had started to happen more and more often of late. Not so long ago he hadn't needed to.

Perhaps she did express herself neutrally, but she pointed things out only when there was reason. She had beef with how Prowl dealt with Chromedome. She had beef with how Prowl dealt with many things, nowadays.

"Are you going to punish the desk or come spar?" Arcee asked, and Prowl glanced up again.

Arcee pushed herself off the doorframe and walked over to Prowl, waving her hand towards herself.

"Or perhaps you find having to clean up after scattering everything about a decent way to calm down?" She continued nonchalantly.

"Not really", Prowl bit out. Arcee nodded her head towards the door, turned on her heel and walked out. Prowl followed.

They were quite evenly matched. What Arcee lost in weight she made up for in speed and force. What Prowl lacked in range of movement he made up for with his ability to predict her moves.

They were familiar with one another's fighting styles. They could afford going in hard and heavy and knowing that the other will dodge or brace and neither would go down and not get up again. They could go on until their frames dumped billows of heat into the air around them and they had to quit for danger of overheating.

It was a good way to clear your head and a good way to forget about the rift between them. Prowl's hand lifted to Arcee's cheek almost on autopilot, and Arcee stepped back as if she wasn't aware of the unfinished movement.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes", Prowl said, nodded sharply.

"Good." Arcee turned and walked away.

* * *

robotslenderman asked:

> The Constructicons were harassing Prowl again. It wasn't that hard to figure out, because Arcee was crammed in the tightest corner trying to stay away from the celebrating crowd when Prowl almost tripped over her. "Nope," she said, before he could say anything. "This hiding spot is mine, go find your own."

Prowl narrowed his optics at Arcee. He splayed his doorwings and leaned against the wall next to her.

"I’m not looking for a hiding place", he said. Not that he wouldn’t mind some peace and quiet for a change. The Constructicons weren’t exactly subtle. He wouldn’t have minded a pink buffer between himself and them, once in a while. She had been good at that. Keeping them at bay when he needed some space.  
It felt like she rubbed it in his faceplates without even trying. Look how much worse you do without my help. Not that the Constructicons didn’t give him space when he told them to, but they tailed after him and _hovered_.

Prowl pulled a sealed cube of high grade from subspace and dropped it in Arcee’s lap, keeping his optics on the crowd.

Arcee glanced up at him, and smirked, puncturing the seal of the cube with her teeth. Apparently he _hadn’t_ been looking for a hiding place.


	5. Predaking/Ratchet

Anonymous asked:

> Predaking onlined slowly, not wanting to move away from the comforting warmth he had sprawled against, but there was a ray of sun beaming directly over his optic. He sighed and moved, taking that warmth with him as he went. There was an grumpy mumble when he settled back down and he glanced down at who exactly he was holding.

The old Autobot medic looked back levelly.

"Wouldn’t have pegged you for a cuddler", he stated. Predaking growled.

Ratchet wiggled a bit to get more comfortable and returned his optics back to the datapad in his hand.

"Yes, do tell me what more dignified term you would prefer to use", he said while flicking through scans and data.  
Predaking scowled. He could of course dump the old medic off his berth, but that would be rude. Not that he was all that averse to rude, but they were in berth. It would also be flat-out ridiculous. It was best to concede defeat while you were still ahead and try a different approach.

"I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who would take being cuddled in such a docile manner."

Ratchet waved the datapad. “I had some interesting data to go through and your sudden need for a carebear wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

"A what?”

"A toy for human infants to cuddle", was the absent-minded reply.

Predaking reared back in affront. Dumping the medic off the berth started to sound more appealing.

Predaking had thought it possible to simply claim his territory and fight anybody who dared trespass. It had turned out to not be that simple when ship after ship of autobots and the few still living neutrals landed on the planet. If they really wished to drive him and Skylynx and Darksteel from his territory, they could do it with sheer overwhelming numbers.

He supposed it was lucky that the Autobots were still willing to negotiate for truce. Ratchet had once again been summoned back to Cybertron on account of him being more familiar with politics than the younger ‘bots, which had come in handy when many of the new ‘bots had been disturbed by the Predacons’ presence and that they were expected to negotiate with ‘beasts’.

Predaking had been tempted to eat that one snooty blue-white Autobot.

After the political side had been mostly ironed out there had been a celebration of sorts. Smokescreen had awkwardly tried to start a discussion with the three Predacons; everybody else had wisely steered clear of them.

Darksteel had transformed and practically curled himself around Smokescreen, seemingly in an attempt to disturb the Autobot. In retrospect Predaking placed considerably more emphasis on the _seemingly_.

The night had dragged on and Predaking had repeatedly wondered why such a thing was necessary in the first place.

Then Ratchet had slumped in a nearby chair, grumbling about prissy nobles who’d gone back to their old habits in the turn of a hand and suddenly everybody tried to imitate their mind games and air of importance.

Why he was the target of the old medic’s venting, he hadn’t known until the Autobot had mentioned that he had been doing some research.

"I should care, why?"

"Because it pertains to you and your little extinction issue", had been the answer, and suddenly he had found himself very much interested.

Ratched had wanted to take scans.

"You couldn’t have petitioned the Allspark for protoforms, you would have demanded them and when that didn’t work sulked in your cave for the rest of your functioning. Probably why your kind went extinct in the first place. Too stubborn and proud", the medic had grumbled to himself while scanning. Predaking had soon learnt that either they had never been dependent on the Well of All Sparks in the first place or if they at some point had been, something had changed; the Well had never in recorded history released a Predacon protoform.

And that considering Insecticons and Predacons' organic-like altmodes Ratchet wouldn’t be surprised if Predacons had employed some more inventive form of creation.

Predaking had found that insulting and blamed it on the high grade that he even considered the possibility.

He also blamed it on the high grade that he had flirted with the medic, and that the medic had agreed to go with him.

Predaking wasn’t sure what he could blame the cuddling on, but he was sure he’d be able to think of something eventually.

It might be less of an issue if he wasn’t still snuggling Ratchet and if the medic didn’t look so comfortable with it.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information or to give me backpats, come talk to me on my tumblr [kalmobotti](http://kalmobotti.tumblr.com/) ♥


End file.
